It's been an interesting semester. It's been a semester of turning 18, figuring out how to be responsible for myself, missing my family, being in a singles ward for the first time, college dating, college homework, college professors.
Transitioning from a child to an adult: not as scary as I thought it would be, more exciting than anything else.
Turning 18: I have a whole blog post dedicated to that!
Missing my family: I'm not homesick, but I miss my family a lot. It's kinda strangely sad to think that their lives are going on without me. I'm super glad that I can skype and snapchat them, though.
Being in a singles ward for the first time: Pretty overwhelming. In a normal ward, there are a limited number of people your age, and those are the people that you become friends with, and/or date. Now, everyone is a potential friend and/or someone to date. My teachers and leaders are mostly my own age, so that makes them easier to understand and connect to.
College dating: Again, overwhelming. There are so many people at BYU, and pretty much all of them extremely good people. Luckily I'm not worried about serious dating at this point, but instead just getting to know people. I can imagine that it will be a challenge, when I do start thinking about dating more seriously, to sift through the vast number of available people.
College homework: So much harder than high school homework. So much more than there was in high school. Especially for classes with reading, and math and science classes. It's been tough, but I'm learning to manage my time more effectively.
College professors: in general, much less lenient with deadlines than high school teachers. In larger classes, the professors are much harder to get to know personally, but in small classes it seems easier, perhaps because adult students can connect better with their professors than teenage students.
It's been a long semester, but at the same time, it's flown by. Now I just have to do this 7 more times before I graduate!
Friday, December 4, 2015
Dealing with stress
You know all those 'lifehacks' for dealing with stress that you hear about? Meditate, read scriptures, go for a walk, etc. Well most of the time, my stress is centered around not having enough time to do everything I need to do, so I've never thought these would be at all useful, as they just take up time.
Yesterday was one of those times. I had just found out that I had a week's worth of chem homework due that day from that thanksgiving break that I hadn't seen when I had checked before, and this was on top of a many other things going on that day that I was stressed about.
I was not in a good state of mind. I had so much to do but couldn't do anything, and as time went on with me not being productive, my frustration rose, to the point where I felt that I was constantly on the verge of tears. I had felt like this before, but usually just decided to go to bed, and would wake up feeling much better.
This time, going to bed wasn't an option. So, I decided to say a prayer, listen to a song that always makes me feel amazing, and practice the piano. It's incredible what the Spirit and music can do for your mood. My problems didn't go away afterwards, but I almost magically was able to approach them with a positive state of mind, and was happy for the rest of the day.
Yesterday was one of those times. I had just found out that I had a week's worth of chem homework due that day from that thanksgiving break that I hadn't seen when I had checked before, and this was on top of a many other things going on that day that I was stressed about.
I was not in a good state of mind. I had so much to do but couldn't do anything, and as time went on with me not being productive, my frustration rose, to the point where I felt that I was constantly on the verge of tears. I had felt like this before, but usually just decided to go to bed, and would wake up feeling much better.
This time, going to bed wasn't an option. So, I decided to say a prayer, listen to a song that always makes me feel amazing, and practice the piano. It's incredible what the Spirit and music can do for your mood. My problems didn't go away afterwards, but I almost magically was able to approach them with a positive state of mind, and was happy for the rest of the day.
One of the many places I get to call home
Two weeks from today, I'll be back in the Netherlands! Now of course what I'm most excited about is seeing my family and my best friends, but for this post I'll focus on what I miss about Netherlands and so am excited to experience again.
I love how beautiful the neighborhood we live in is. There are huge trees everywhere in Wassenaar and a forest in the middle that we bike through to go anywhere. The forest used to be part of different estates, and there are two castles hidden in the trees that you catch glimpses of during the winter when the trees are empty of leaves. The whole country is beautiful, especially in the spring when the tulips and daffodils are in bloom.
I love how easy it is to get around. I don't have a driver's license (the legal driving age in the Netherlands is 18, so I was never able to get one), and I feel kind of stuck here, but in Holland I was never ever limited. From my house, it takes 20 minutes to bike into the Hague and 40 to bike to Leiden, both places I went regularly. If I didn't want to bike or I wanted to go farther, such as to Amsterdam, there were buses and trains and trams galore. Biking and taking public transportation is so easy that even my parents rarely use their cars. My mom bikes or takes the bus with my siblings to school, and my dad takes the train or bike to work. The only time we ever really drive is when going to church and Mutual. I miss it.
I love the little, private shops that are the norm rather than the exception. In the center of town there is the Langstraat, which means "long street." No bikes or cars can travel on this street–which is lined by shops–it's just for walking. Teenagers hang out here, couples go here for dates, moms come here to shop. There are a few chain stores along Langstraat, such as Hema, a Dutch department store, but the majority of shops are boutiques. There's a candy shop that I go to almost every time I'm on Langstraat. It's packed with all sorts of candy, chocolate, dutch licorice, the best stroopwaffels I've ever had, trinkets, and Dutch china, and it always smells amazing. The owner is the only person I ever see behind the counter, and he is so friendly to everyone. His store is my favorite on the Langstraat.
I miss Dutch food, the pannekoeken (big thin pancakes), poffridges (tiny fat pancakes), stroopwaffels (basically ambrosia), and hagelslag (chocolate sprinkles that go with everything). I miss the Dutch street signs and city names, like Scheveningen (a city), and Verlengde Kerkeboslaan (the street I live on), the coughing, guttural "G" sound in every other word, and how accomplished I felt when my pronunciation of Dutch names was approved by my Dutch friends. I miss the people, although it did take a while to get used to how direct they are. You always know the opinion of a Dutchie. I miss how you have to go uphill to get to the beach, how in some places the bike paths are wider than the roads, how you could by a dozen roses for 5€ ($5.50), and the cobblestone streets in the center of town.
Holland will always have a special place in my heart.
I love how beautiful the neighborhood we live in is. There are huge trees everywhere in Wassenaar and a forest in the middle that we bike through to go anywhere. The forest used to be part of different estates, and there are two castles hidden in the trees that you catch glimpses of during the winter when the trees are empty of leaves. The whole country is beautiful, especially in the spring when the tulips and daffodils are in bloom.
I love how easy it is to get around. I don't have a driver's license (the legal driving age in the Netherlands is 18, so I was never able to get one), and I feel kind of stuck here, but in Holland I was never ever limited. From my house, it takes 20 minutes to bike into the Hague and 40 to bike to Leiden, both places I went regularly. If I didn't want to bike or I wanted to go farther, such as to Amsterdam, there were buses and trains and trams galore. Biking and taking public transportation is so easy that even my parents rarely use their cars. My mom bikes or takes the bus with my siblings to school, and my dad takes the train or bike to work. The only time we ever really drive is when going to church and Mutual. I miss it.
I love the little, private shops that are the norm rather than the exception. In the center of town there is the Langstraat, which means "long street." No bikes or cars can travel on this street–which is lined by shops–it's just for walking. Teenagers hang out here, couples go here for dates, moms come here to shop. There are a few chain stores along Langstraat, such as Hema, a Dutch department store, but the majority of shops are boutiques. There's a candy shop that I go to almost every time I'm on Langstraat. It's packed with all sorts of candy, chocolate, dutch licorice, the best stroopwaffels I've ever had, trinkets, and Dutch china, and it always smells amazing. The owner is the only person I ever see behind the counter, and he is so friendly to everyone. His store is my favorite on the Langstraat.
I miss Dutch food, the pannekoeken (big thin pancakes), poffridges (tiny fat pancakes), stroopwaffels (basically ambrosia), and hagelslag (chocolate sprinkles that go with everything). I miss the Dutch street signs and city names, like Scheveningen (a city), and Verlengde Kerkeboslaan (the street I live on), the coughing, guttural "G" sound in every other word, and how accomplished I felt when my pronunciation of Dutch names was approved by my Dutch friends. I miss the people, although it did take a while to get used to how direct they are. You always know the opinion of a Dutchie. I miss how you have to go uphill to get to the beach, how in some places the bike paths are wider than the roads, how you could by a dozen roses for 5€ ($5.50), and the cobblestone streets in the center of town.
Holland will always have a special place in my heart.
Reflections on turning 18
And finally, I'm 18! It's taken way too long.
Do I feel any different? No. Growing up, I always assumed that the day I turned eighteen would be the day I considered myself an adult. But of course that's not it at all, as the day you turn 18 is arbitrary. I really started to feel like an adult after I moved out over the summer. Once I started getting used to doing "adult" things, such as paying for all my own food, looking for a job, planning out what the next couple years of my life are going to be like, deciding when to go to the dentist/doctor, I started feeling like an adult. And honestly, all that stuff wasn't as hard as I had anticipated it would be.
But hey, at least the government recognizes me as an adult. And it's so nice to be able to have a checking account totally independent of my parents, to be able to vote, and donate blood, and to be legally responsible for myself.
But even though I don't really feel different, at the same time, turning 18 is kind of scary. My childhood is officially over; there's no going back. And of course this is exciting; I'm on the cusp of young adulthood, with innumerable amazing experiences ahead of me. But at the same time, my childhood was amazing, and it's sad to think life will never be like that again.
Do I feel any different? No. Growing up, I always assumed that the day I turned eighteen would be the day I considered myself an adult. But of course that's not it at all, as the day you turn 18 is arbitrary. I really started to feel like an adult after I moved out over the summer. Once I started getting used to doing "adult" things, such as paying for all my own food, looking for a job, planning out what the next couple years of my life are going to be like, deciding when to go to the dentist/doctor, I started feeling like an adult. And honestly, all that stuff wasn't as hard as I had anticipated it would be.
But hey, at least the government recognizes me as an adult. And it's so nice to be able to have a checking account totally independent of my parents, to be able to vote, and donate blood, and to be legally responsible for myself.
But even though I don't really feel different, at the same time, turning 18 is kind of scary. My childhood is officially over; there's no going back. And of course this is exciting; I'm on the cusp of young adulthood, with innumerable amazing experiences ahead of me. But at the same time, my childhood was amazing, and it's sad to think life will never be like that again.
Sharing the Book of Mormon with my best friend
Sharing the Book of Mormon with my best friend is extremely exciting but also terrifying.
This best friend of mine is the most intelligent person I know, and also one of the most rational and logical. When I saw him last, which was when we were saying goodbye as I was moving from Holland to BYU and he was moving from Holland to the UK, I gave him a Book of Mormon with a note bearing my testimony and imploring him to read it. Since then, he's started reading it daily, and asking me questions.
The thing is, he's only reading it an academic point of view, to gain better insight into my religion. But I want him to feel the Spirit and start reading it with the intention of finding out if it's true. I want it so much it hurts. Because I know that if he does, Heavenly Father will reveal the truth of the Book of Mormon to him. I have absolute faith that He will. I just need my friend to consider the possibility that it's true and ask sincerely. And then if he does, and joins the church, his life will be immeasurably blessed, and there's nothing more I could want for him than that.
But it seems like he'll never make the jump from reading it educationally to reading it to find out if it's true. And in the meantime, he asks me questions, questions that I can't always answer, like "Why did Nephi have to kill Laban, instead of getting the plates some other way? If murder is morally wrong, and God's laws never change, why did he command Nephi to do this?" And I'm afraid he'll be totally turned off by something he finds, and think me blind for believing in it, and never consider if the church is actually true.
All I can do is pray, pray as hard as I can that he'll feel the Spirit, and maybe drop subtle hints here and there.
This best friend of mine is the most intelligent person I know, and also one of the most rational and logical. When I saw him last, which was when we were saying goodbye as I was moving from Holland to BYU and he was moving from Holland to the UK, I gave him a Book of Mormon with a note bearing my testimony and imploring him to read it. Since then, he's started reading it daily, and asking me questions.
The thing is, he's only reading it an academic point of view, to gain better insight into my religion. But I want him to feel the Spirit and start reading it with the intention of finding out if it's true. I want it so much it hurts. Because I know that if he does, Heavenly Father will reveal the truth of the Book of Mormon to him. I have absolute faith that He will. I just need my friend to consider the possibility that it's true and ask sincerely. And then if he does, and joins the church, his life will be immeasurably blessed, and there's nothing more I could want for him than that.
But it seems like he'll never make the jump from reading it educationally to reading it to find out if it's true. And in the meantime, he asks me questions, questions that I can't always answer, like "Why did Nephi have to kill Laban, instead of getting the plates some other way? If murder is morally wrong, and God's laws never change, why did he command Nephi to do this?" And I'm afraid he'll be totally turned off by something he finds, and think me blind for believing in it, and never consider if the church is actually true.
All I can do is pray, pray as hard as I can that he'll feel the Spirit, and maybe drop subtle hints here and there.
On speaking another language.
To me, speaking a second language seems like a superpower. You have this ability that not everyone has, you can communicate with people that others can't communicate with. It's pretty cool.
I've always been envious of my friends who grow up bilingual or trilingual (having lived internationally, the majority of my friends have this superpower). They speak multiple languages better than I ever could if I started now, even if I work for years and years, and they can do it without even trying. I've had to earn the superpower the hard way.
But it's totally worth it. Being able to understand, speak, and even think in Spanish is exhilarating to me. Having conversations in Spanish with native speakers is one of the most rewarding things I've ever done. And I wish that more people could appreciate how worthwhile learning another language can be. My hypothesis is that if everyone in America learned Spanish–and not just what they teach in high school, but actually learned it–they would be much more welcoming to Hispanic immigrants, because they would have something that they worked hard for in common with them. But maybe that's just me. I know that I feel a connection with native Spanish speakers and have a much greater interest in Spanish speaking countries than I did before I was proficient in the language. I felt the same thing when I was learning Malay.
The next language I'm planning on learning is Arabic. I can't wait to get started :)
I've always been envious of my friends who grow up bilingual or trilingual (having lived internationally, the majority of my friends have this superpower). They speak multiple languages better than I ever could if I started now, even if I work for years and years, and they can do it without even trying. I've had to earn the superpower the hard way.
But it's totally worth it. Being able to understand, speak, and even think in Spanish is exhilarating to me. Having conversations in Spanish with native speakers is one of the most rewarding things I've ever done. And I wish that more people could appreciate how worthwhile learning another language can be. My hypothesis is that if everyone in America learned Spanish–and not just what they teach in high school, but actually learned it–they would be much more welcoming to Hispanic immigrants, because they would have something that they worked hard for in common with them. But maybe that's just me. I know that I feel a connection with native Spanish speakers and have a much greater interest in Spanish speaking countries than I did before I was proficient in the language. I felt the same thing when I was learning Malay.
The next language I'm planning on learning is Arabic. I can't wait to get started :)
My love-hate relationship with music.
My family is an extremely musical family. Playing instruments is what we do, and we all play them well, and play them together. (Here's a youtube link of me and all my siblings playing violin together at our school in Holland: https://youtu.be/Qc69S-PAUR0?t=68) It's never been a choice, growing up, of whether or not any of us would take music lessons. We always would. Piano and violin lessons simultaneously until about high school, and then we choose one.
We play together as a family, as shown in the video, and it looks fun, but practicing is not. Trying to get 6 kids to do something they don't want to do for more than an hour at a time, to be quiet when other people are playing, to not run off and get distracted, to not goof off on their instruments, and to come up with creative ideas is nigh on impossible. Family practice sessions were rarely fun.
I never was good at practicing. I never liked practicing. But since when I was young, I was very gifted for my age at the piano and violin, I always felt the pressure of not squandering my talent. Of becoming the best. This pressure didn't come from my parents, but rather myself and my teachers. And when I was 11, still getting used to balancing school and practicing after being homeschooled my whole life, my younger brother started to get better at the piano than I was. Now, as a 11 year old, there isn't much worse than seeing a younger sibling do better than you at something you work extremely hard at. So for a while, I pushed myself harder, but eventually, after realizing that I wasn't going to be able to get back ahead, I abandoned ship. Not totally, because again, ditching music isn't allowed in my family, but I stopped acting like I cared about the piano. So I refocused on violin, and progressed more in violin than I ever had before. My teacher told me "You have the potential to be one of the best. You just need to work harder." So I tried, for years. I worked and I practiced and I gave performances and I practiced more, but I started to get sick of it. I realized that I would never be able to work hard enough to compete with the best violinists. That was a tough realization for me, but it was a good one to have.
This semester marks the longest time I've ever gone without taking private music lessons. I miss it way more than I thought I would. I'm very glad that I decided so long ago not to make a career out of music, because I've realized that if I made music performance my career, it would stop being my hobby. I wouldn't be able to go and play the violin when I am stressed, because music would be a source of stress. I wouldn't be able to accompany my friends on the piano or learn pieces to play in sacrament meeting, because I would be so loaded down with other work. So, even though I haven't enjoyed every moment, I'm really happy with where I am with music. I cherish the memories of performing with my family (not so much the memories of practicing.)
And I'll definitely make my future family a musical one.
We play together as a family, as shown in the video, and it looks fun, but practicing is not. Trying to get 6 kids to do something they don't want to do for more than an hour at a time, to be quiet when other people are playing, to not run off and get distracted, to not goof off on their instruments, and to come up with creative ideas is nigh on impossible. Family practice sessions were rarely fun.
I never was good at practicing. I never liked practicing. But since when I was young, I was very gifted for my age at the piano and violin, I always felt the pressure of not squandering my talent. Of becoming the best. This pressure didn't come from my parents, but rather myself and my teachers. And when I was 11, still getting used to balancing school and practicing after being homeschooled my whole life, my younger brother started to get better at the piano than I was. Now, as a 11 year old, there isn't much worse than seeing a younger sibling do better than you at something you work extremely hard at. So for a while, I pushed myself harder, but eventually, after realizing that I wasn't going to be able to get back ahead, I abandoned ship. Not totally, because again, ditching music isn't allowed in my family, but I stopped acting like I cared about the piano. So I refocused on violin, and progressed more in violin than I ever had before. My teacher told me "You have the potential to be one of the best. You just need to work harder." So I tried, for years. I worked and I practiced and I gave performances and I practiced more, but I started to get sick of it. I realized that I would never be able to work hard enough to compete with the best violinists. That was a tough realization for me, but it was a good one to have.
This semester marks the longest time I've ever gone without taking private music lessons. I miss it way more than I thought I would. I'm very glad that I decided so long ago not to make a career out of music, because I've realized that if I made music performance my career, it would stop being my hobby. I wouldn't be able to go and play the violin when I am stressed, because music would be a source of stress. I wouldn't be able to accompany my friends on the piano or learn pieces to play in sacrament meeting, because I would be so loaded down with other work. So, even though I haven't enjoyed every moment, I'm really happy with where I am with music. I cherish the memories of performing with my family (not so much the memories of practicing.)
And I'll definitely make my future family a musical one.
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